


Hale-Thy

by hazelandglasz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, white knight - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:47:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22279276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: Prompt: “Some asshole customer is screaming at you for doing your job and I can tell that you really want to yell back but I’m assuming you can’t so excuse me I’ll do it for you.” AU - you should soooo do a sterek one ! If you wanted to of course,, But I bet it would be so freaking awesome!
Relationships: Cora Hale & Derek Hale & Laura Hale, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 29
Kudos: 1001





	Hale-Thy

Stiles is a regular at Hale-thy.

For one, if he wants to force his father into eating more than steaks and potatoes, he has to set an example, and the food here manages to be healthy and delicious.

For two …

He loves to indulge in some people-watching, particularly the staff manning the restaurant.

They are all related, or so it seems, from the hostess to the bartender to the cooks to the waiters.

Or, to be completely accurate, there is one waiter in particular who has all of Stiles’ attention.

His nametag simply reads ‘Derek’, but Stiles has a variety of nicknames for the waiter.

Grumpy.

Dark & Broody.

Big Guy.

Woomph Rgjrdtkh, on one particular occasion (Derek ended up wet from head to apron, and he was wearing a white shirt. That was a happy night for Stiles).

Besides Derek, they are all fairly amusing to observe, and Stiles is nothing if not a glutton for free amusement.

(Well, free. The measly dollars he pays for his meals are nothing compared to the enjoyment this restaurant gives him.)

But tonight, Stiles is not amused.

Because, as grumpy as Derek may look, he’s actually a sweet, decent, polite guy who never complains and never claps back when the customers are being less than stellar guests.

Like, Asshole at Table 52.

The moment he entered the restaurant, he started complaining to his date that he didn’t want to “eat like a rabbit in some sort of poorly lit den, Isabelle”, to which poor Isabelle only replied with a sweet smile that if he wanted to eat somewhere else, Harold, you can do so on the next date.

Something in her voice told Stiles that the possibility for said next date was dwindling by the minute.

And now.

Now.

Now, Harold has apparently decided to take all his balled up anger issues on Derek.

Who, again, apparently, did nothing wrong except explain to the gentleman that while the cooks were perfectly able to copy the Kardashians Nut salad, it wasn’t on the menu, as it is, but could he recommend the “Tough Nut” salad, which has the same main elements?

“You calling me a tough nut, asshole?”

Oh shit, Harold clenches his fists and Isabelle is face-palming like crazy.

And Derek only smiles, all teeth, which is really counterproductive if you ask Stiles, and bows his head. “No, Sir. The Tough Nut is one of our most popular item.”

“And I should take it to make it easy for you?”

“No, but--”

“Get out of my face. I will decide what we’re eating, we don’t need some loser who can’t do better to tell us what to do.”

Derek clenches his jaw but nods curtly before going back to the bar, his back to the rest of the room. His sister is immediately there, covering his hands with her own.

Good for him. Stiles is glad to see that Derek has such a good support system, but that doesn’t solve anything.

He’s filled with righteous anger, and he really wants to tear good ol’ Harold a new one.

Before he can form a proper plan, his legs decide for him and take him to table 52.

“What do you want?”

Isabelle looks up and gives Stiles a shaky, apologetic smile. Stiles smiles at her before turning all of his attention to the asshole in the seat in front of her.

“What do I want? Oh, nothing. Nothing from you anyway, except your respect and some manners.”

“Wha--”

“Nah, nah, nah. You had the stage, you tried to prove you were the bigger man here, but using a poor waiter to unleash some of the day’s tension is really in poor taste don’t you think?”

“How dare--”

Stiles leans forward. “What did I say? Shush. The grown-up is speaking.”

Somewhere in the back of his head, Stiles’ dad is laughing himself to tears at the sentence.

Somewhere in the background, the whole staff has stopped their activities to observe.

“Now, you may not be aware of the following facts, being unfrozen directly from Neanderthal times, but in the modern world, we don’t chew people up for doing their job. We take their advice, and we thank them, either in words or with a tip at the end of the meal. People in the serving system are not punching balls,” he adds, straightening up, “but if you need to resort to physical outburst to get your manners back, I volunteer to kick some sense into you.”

With every word pronounced by Stiles, Harold has packed himself into a smaller ball in his seat, turning redder than a rotten tomato.

“Um.”

“Thought so.”

Isabelle is turning red too, but obviously because she is containing her laughter.

Stiles looks around, and his eyes meet Derek’s.

Who is shocked enough to have his jaw dropped.

(Why doesn’t it make him any less attractive? Why?)

Stiles smiles crookedly and, bolstered up by the adrenaline coursing in his veins, winks at him.

_ I got you boo _ .

Which is really saying something about the levels this crush has gotten to.

“You are all mad, in here.”

Stiles gives Harold his best Cheshire cat’s smile. “Oh, no. You found out.”

“Come on, Isabelle.”

“I’d rather not.”

Harold is already standing up, but he freezes when she replies. “What? But--”

“Good evening, Harold.”

From red, Harold is taking a dive into a very unattractive shade of maroon. “Fine, be that way. I wasn’t that interested--”

Stiles puts his fingers on Harold’s lips. “Don’t say something you may regret later. Or should I get some soap from the kitchen to clean that potty mouth?”

“No need.” Stiles is surprised Harold doesn’t try to bite his fingers off. “I’m leaving.”

“Without paying for the date?Tsk tsk tsk.”

Harold opens his mouth and closes it, angrily taking a bill from his wallet before storming out. 

Stiles and Isabelle share a look before they both burst out laughing. “That was generous,” Stiles says, flicking the 100 dollar bill closer to her.

“Nearly not enough, believe me,” she replies with a smile. “Are you by yourself, oh white knight in shining plaid armor?”

“Um.”

“Sorry, Miss, this knight is already spoken for.” 

Derek has managed to sneak up back to the table, his hand warm on Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles turns his head to look at him, one eyebrow crooked, and Derek winks at him.

That’s fair.

Except it’s totally not fair. Derek’s wink and smile are weapons of mass destruction. Stiles’ are merely nerf guns.

“Right. Right! Spoken for!” Stiles shrugs. “Totally off the market.”

Isabelle pouts before shrugging back. “I should have guessed. My loss! But your meal is still on me, as a thank you.”

“I won’t object to that. Milady,” Stiles adds, giving her a curtsey before returning to his table, Derek hot on his heels. The words are almost literal here, given how close Derek stands.

“That really was chevaleresque of you,” Derek says softly as Stiles sits back.

“I really couldn’t let him go on like that. You were perfect, and he was being a dick.”

Derek chuckles, looking down before killing Stiles with a bat of his eyelashes. “I’ve never been called perfect before.”

“You--you need to change your entourage, then.”

“Maybe I do. Do you know anyone interested in a position?”

_ I could be interested in a lot of positions _ , Stiles thinks but he bites on his lower lip to keep the words from tumbling out.

His thoughts must be loud, though, because Derek’s smile widens into a smirk. “How can I repay your kindness, though?”

“Coffee?”

Derek blinks, looking surprised and … disappointed? “Oh. Okay. Right away.”

“No! No,” Stiles adds, lowering his voice after the initial outburst. “I meant, have coffee. With me. Somewhere. Else.” Stiles closes his eyes and wipes his face with his hand with a sigh. “We could get some coffee sometimes, in a place where--”

“Where we wouldn’t be surrounded by my family who is watching us like zookeepers watch over baby pandas?”

Derek points his thumb behind him, and sure enough, the staff is looking at them with all the subtlety of a chili pudding.

“Indeed.”

Derek smiles in a softer tone. “I could pick you up at your place on Thursday?”

“You don’t know where my place is.” Stiles pauses. “Do you?”

“No, I don’t. But you know where I work. Seems a bit unfair.”

“You’re a bit unfair,” Stiles mumbles, gesturing at Derek from head to toe.

The tip of Derek’s ears turns bright pink, and it is adorable.

Stiles is doomed, in the best of ways.


End file.
